


Anniversary

by Davechicken



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crack, M/M, Sorry but it's crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22999957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Crowley has a gift for Aziraphale.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhiteleyFoster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteleyFoster/gifts).



“Aaa-ngellll,” came the sing-song tones of a serpent up to no good.

Although to be fair, Crowley was always up to no good, even if he was trying (in his own way) to do ‘good’. It was simply there in his makeup. And it was one of many reasons the angel loved him.

“Yes, my dear?”

Crowley performed something non-Euclidian with his hip-bones as he rounded the door frame, slinking into view as if the world had to ripple to allow him in.

He was trying to keep the smugness off his lips, but his inner self-satisfaction was too strong. He was _gleeful_. And it was hard to resist, when he was so happy. His joy was a heavy wave, a pulse that lifted the angel’s own spirits in return. 

It was also dangerous.

“Do you know what day it is?”

“In every calendar thus far documented, but by the most recent, it is Tuesday.”

“Ah, but you know what _day_ it is?” He emphasised the word as if to do so would change the meaning in a way the angel could comprehend.

“What _day_ it is?” He echoed the intonation, and knew it was quicker to admit defeat instead of turn this into a semantic argument which might ruin the mood. “Clearly, then, I do not.”

“It’s our anniversary.”

Oh, good Lord. Which anniversary was it, then? When they met? (No, he was fairly sure it wasn’t that time of year already.) When the Arrangement started? Their first not-date? Their first date-date? First kiss? First time they admitted what they’d known all along? First time he’d brushed his hair? First time they met without work as an excuse? First time they’d touched feet below a table in public, and Aziraphale had spent the whole month sure everyone could tell by looking at his shoes? First time they’d not corrected anyone in public about their relationship? First time---

“Oh, how silly of me to forget,” Aziraphale said, trying to hide the nerves he felt from having actually forgotten. 

“Well, it’s the first one. Actually.”

“As in, a year ago we---?”

“No. First. As in, like you’re born and then you have birthdays after.”

“That isn’t really an anniversary,” Aziraphale pointed out, a little snottily, annoyed that he’d been embarrassed into thinking he’d forgotten something that didn’t actually, yet, exist.

“It _will_ be. If you stop thinking in a linear whatnot.”

“That’s how we experience time, Crowley.”

“Whatever.” He was too happy to be bogged down by things like actual truth and literal meanings. He was also holding a box. It was square, and perfectly wrapped. The paper was a gaudy, holographic material that reflected everything back in a slightly warped rainbow colour. 

It had also not moved from right in front of his lap while he sprawled against the furniture.

“So you got me a gift to celebrate this date you intend to henceforth commemorate?”

Crowley nodded. His smile went from shit-eating to rid-the-world-of-all-waste-and-make-it-utterly-carbon-zero-with-a-lick-of-his-lips. 

The angel looked down at the box, then up at the demon. “I can tell what it is without unwrapping it.”

“You can’t.” Wider. Wider. Eyes now sparkling.

“Crowley, it is quite evident to me that you intend to present to me your genitals in a gift box, as if I do not already have full custody of them. Enjoyable as they are, and delightful as they are, it is hardly a new gift.”

“First off, it’s ‘Dick in a box’, angel. And secondly, that isn’t what’s inside.”

Now he had images of opening it to find that Crowley had put in a fake one which worked on batteries, for the joke of it. Or perhaps a recreation of a female’s parts. Or… blast him. It was going to be a stupid joke, whatever it was, and Aziraphale was _curious_ and always had been. And _damn_ that demon but he knew how to pique him.

“Very well. I will see how accurate the statement is.”

He rose, and walked over. The top of the box was sealed with a little bow, which pinned down four edges of paper and no doubt allowed him easy access to the inside. He plucked at it coquettishly, and peered inside.

It was… almost correct. The back wall of the box was, indeed sporting a large hole. And Crowley’s genitalia had obviously been inserted through said hole.

Only, he was wearing what could only be described as hideous novelty boxers. Which sported a circular pattern around the hips, and then this diverted down into a little sock-type section for the offending bodily part. Which thus resembled a snake.

He was wearing snake-boxers. Which had googly eyes on the tip, and a felt tongue. And which he jiggled by swaying his hips.

It was entirely impossible to take that seriously, and Aziraphale rolled his eyes and wondered how he could love such an idiotic demon-child of a monster. 

“Really?”

“I now declare the annual celebration of the most ridiculous underwear formally begun,” Crowley announced, then tossed the box aside.

Without it to hide the rest of the fabric, Aziraphale was treated to the terrible print that covered the other sections, and he wondered if this was meant to reduce the breeding done by Humanity. 

Crowley thrust his hips as if he were one of Bill’s old actors, wearing a codpiece and not a… snake-sock. “So?”

“Take that terrible thing off if you ever wish me to kiss you again,” Aziraphale countered.

But he was already planning what he could wear next year.

Revenge. It was Godly, after all. Just not usually in the form of lingerie.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, sorry this is dumb ;)


End file.
